


your lips caught my eye (i'd really like to give that colour a try)

by lovebender



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Universe, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Lesbian Allura (Voltron), Mutual Pining, Pining Allura (Voltron), but it's mostly just her coming to terms with it being a comphet thing, lots of kisses actually! they're in lesbians with each other!, there are some mentions of past allura/lotor, written pre s7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-23 00:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15594042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovebender/pseuds/lovebender
Summary: Romelle bites her infuriatingly rosy and soft looking bottom lip in an attempt to hold back from giggling at her own story, and Allura’s brain-to-mouth filter finally gives out. It’s a very sudden, very uninvited, moment of courage and absolute foolishness, during which she feels like she’s watching herself from outside of a glass box. One moment she’s fine (or as fine as she can be with Romelle this close to her) and the next-“What’s wrong with your lips?”-the next she wants Earth to swallow her alive.(In which Allura has a revelation, falls in love, stargazes and kisses a peach lipgloss off of a girl. Not necessarily in that order.)





	your lips caught my eye (i'd really like to give that colour a try)

**Author's Note:**

> this entire story was an excuse for me to write one of those classic wlw lipgloss scenes- because it's what allura deserves! 
> 
> also, the lipgloss romelle uses is a too faced peach lipgloss in the shade 'tickle me peach' (which is in no way important for the story, but is very important to me because of who i am as a person)
> 
> the title is from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CiKXf_Vp-cw) !!

  
It’s five in the afternoon, and a girl in a yellow sundress is laying on the bed and watching the stars.

They’re not the real stars; Allura knows because Lance told her so four days ago when they first settled in. “Glow in the dark stars,” he had called them.

“I...don't actually know how they work- you can ask Hunk when we give him a call- but I  _can_  tell you that they were a pain to put up.”

(Allura gave him a sly smile, shape-shifting until she was able to effortlessly touch one of the stars. “Cheater!” Lance cried, hitting her with a pillow. She stuck her tongue out.)

She liked watching the stars when she was younger. Her mum knew a lot of stories about them- and about the worlds among them- that she would tell to Allura every night while brushing her hair. Coran knew plenty of stories about the stars too (because Coran knew plenty of stories about nearly everything) but those were less about the forbidden love of a star goddess and a common girl, and more about the time he had a little too much nunvil and attempted to  _fight_  a star.

It’s been a long while since she associated stars with silly stories; a long while since she was last _allowed_ to do so.

Too often were stars all she saw while the alarms and bombs were going off, and too many times has she looked at them during sleepless nights, because there was nothing and nobody else left to look at.

Stars are different in Cuba.

On their flight there Lance had been a nervous wreck. He had a monologue ready and he had repeated it until everyone in the aircraft was able to recite it just as well as himself. But then, when he was finally face to face with his mami (a woman with beautiful brown eyes and heavy eye-bags) he went completely quiet.

Eventually, he took out sewing kit filled with cookies he had bought on their space road trip (Allura had asked him why he couldn’t just leave the cookies in their original box; Lance said he was playing an irony on the Earth Culture) and held it in front of the woman.

“I got you space thin mints. From space. I uh, still hate those, but I know that you and Ronnie used to love them so I-”

The sewing kit was knocked out of his arms as the woman crushed him into a hug. It didn’t take long for him to melt into it, letting his face fall onto her shoulder, nor did much time pass before five other people ran over to join; all saying tear-filled words in a language Allura didn’t understand.

(But perhaps.)

(Perhaps, despite not understanding the language, she understood what was being said.)

“They really didn’t have to knock the cookies over,” Lance complained good-naturedly that night, as all of them sat in the garden. “We spent a long time in that fountain to get enough GAC.”

Romelle laughed, her shoulder pressed against Allura’s- and Allura never knew that a touch of shoulders could make her face feel so warm.

She wasn’t sure if it was the light in the sky or the one in the eyes of her friends and Coran- where it had been at least partially absent for so long- but in that very moment, she decided that the stars might not be so bad.

At least, not from this point of view.

Glow in the dark stars didn’t look much like the real ones. Too big and their shape fairly odd, they were an unorganized mess on the ceiling. Despite the day being rainy with dark grey clouds, the daylight- no matter how gloomy- was still too present for the stars to glow, making them not that interesting to look at. Still, Allura had been doing just that for the past half an hour, since the rest of them went out in the rain.

She would _like_ to say that her reasoning was being very deep in thought. But saying that she just kept repeating one part of a song that Lance’s brother had shown her the day before would be far more accurate.

She rolls until she’s resting on her stomach, palms supporting her chin as she looks at one of the mice, sitting on the pillow and using a lock of her hair as a blanket.

“Platt.” she says, addressing him with a deadly serious expression “How many shrimps do you have to eat?”

Platt blinks at her.

She blinks back.

“Before your skin turns...pink?” someone’s unexpected voice reaches their ears, two heads turning to see a mess of damp blonde hair poke through the door, accompanied by a big smile. “Hi Princess!”

_Oh._

Now, don’t get her wrong; Allura is very used to being called a princess. It sort of comes prepackaged with the fact that she _is_ one.

Still, she has only ever been referred to as such because of it being her formal title. The way Romelle says it, all fond and smiley and like- like a  _term of endearment_ \- makes her heart stutter in her chest in a way she deems to be quite dumb.

(And quite addicting too)

“Hey Peaches!” Allura says, instead of voicing any of those thoughts. She sits up to get a better view of the other girl, and Platt grumbles at this sudden commotion before smirking and forming a little heart with his tail.

Allura’s eyes go wide and she quickly throws a pillow over him, before Romelle has the chance to notice.

“So! How was the rain?” She asks, a little too enthusiastically, hoping to draw the attention away from the traitorous little mouse who is now glaring at her.

Romelle doesn’t seem to notice, equally enthusiastic but much more genuine about it. She grabs a towel sitting on her bed in their shared room, carelessly drying her hair with it.

“Oh it’s was absolutely wonderful! Tiny droplets just falling from the sky, like magic, and it makes the entire place smell very nice. Why haven’t you joined us?”

Allura bites her lip, nose scrunching up at her own foolishness. Why hadn’t she?

Surely she knew the rains on Earth would be nothing like those on Altea?

When the mild storm first started, Lance had been ecstatic- and although his mood was contagious for the most part, Allura politely and a little warily declined the offer. It was silly of her- she knows. The water hitting her window seemed quite harmless, and Lance wouldn’t be that hyped up about something that could potentially hurt them.

She even peeked outside eventually- to ensure that her friends were still, you know, alive- but all she was faced with was a sweet scene of Coran attempting to learn Romelle a complicated Altean dance, as well as Lance lowering Keith in an exaggerated dip (which ended with them tumbling to the ground just seconds later) whilst Krolia laughed.

So yes. She could have easily concluded that Earth rains weren’t deadly in the slightest. But, look, it’s fine! We all have our irrational fears.

No matter as how  _perfect_  some like to portray her, she’s not fearless.

(Except.)

(Romelle is now standing right in front of her; jean shorts and a light white top very, very damp, cheeks flushed in an adorable pink and tongue peeking out as she concentrates on her attempt of proper hair drying. Allura thinks all of that _might_  be related to why her heart is beating so unreasonably fast.)

(So maybe rain really was deadly. Just, in a different way than expected.)

“Oh, I don’t know, really. We had a similar thing back on Altea- except with very sharp rocks. A real pain in the head, as you can imagine.”

Romelle lets a soft laugh escape her unusually rosy lips, and Allura feels as if she won something. Life, perhaps.

“We do not have anything of that sort in the colony,” she says, and Allura notices- like she had noticed many times before- Romelle’s refusal to call the colony her home.

After a few seconds of consideration, she adds: “But we  _do_  have a giant sculpture of Lotor. There is a rumor that looking at it directly will give you just as much of a headache as getting hit by a sharp rock would.”

This pulls a laugh out of Allura.

“And who started this rumor, I wonder?”

Romelle doesn’t respond, but the tiny smirk sent her way is enough of a confirmation for Allura.

It’s a bit strange for her to talk about it so casually- since it still is a sore topic- but Romelle always was exceptional like that.

And she always has this  _smile_  on her face when she makes Allura laugh- as if she just accomplished the most incredible thing in the world. And then her eyes turn soft, and she starts twirling her hair, and Allura dies. She just stops functioning.

She thinks that maybe that’s the thing.

The way Romelle looks at her now (all open and gleaming and true), how she makes her _feel_ , compared to how Lotor did.

“You are the key to winning this war, Allura.” he used to say.

“You have immense capabilities within you; just imagine what the two of us could do with our Altean heritage- if only we joined powers.”

Looking back, it feels like these were the only kinds of compliments he ever gave to her.

 _No,_  she realizes, _not compliments._

 _Praise_.

Like she was a weapon, a convenient tool to help him win a war.

Allura didn’t mind it, back then. She didn’t feel particularly useful- watching the paladins risk their lives,  _lose them_. She didn’t think she was doing enough. And Lotor- he had such a way of making her feel important and needed.

She got drunk on it.

Love, she concluded back then. Why else would she feel so high with each and every repetitive comment he sent her way? His touches ( _His kiss_  her brain supplies, and she quickly shuts it up), they made her feel weird, sure. But they also set something off in her stomach, a bit too slimy, too rough, to be butterflies- but how would she know? It’s been ten thousand years since she last felt those.

She didn’t like him, no, she’s sure of that now. But the idea of him liking her? The feeling of being useful?

That, she  _craved_.

Romelle, however, was a soft-hearted girl with a sharp mind, a sharper tongue, and an undeniable appreciation for the truth.

She didn’t necessarily need Allura the way Lotor did- but she  _wanted_  to be around. She wanted to make Allura smile- so she brought her an Earth flower that smelled like a juniberry. She knew how much home meant to Allura, and how much trouble and pain that had brought her in the past (with that alternate reality; with Lotor)- so she patiently sat while Allura retold stories of what Altea once was. She knew Allura wanted to feel useful- but her compliments were really just that; no ulterior motives to the awed look in her eyes.

No need for lying and empty words. Romelle, she was a doer- the kind that was completely honest in all of her doings.

Allura remembers when Romelle followed her outside during one of the warm evenings of their space road trip. They stopped by a strange, glittering lake- and Allura always did have a weak spot for sparkly things; so it came as no surprise when she persuaded Romelle to sneak out with her and go sit by it.

It felt strangely...normal- like something she daydreamed about as a lovesick preteen on Altea. Her and a gorgeous girl sneaking out, while their attempts to shush each other's laughter only make them laugh even harder. Allura not-so-accidentally tripping over air and into Romelle’s arms while they were jumping over the wall, looking up at her with a mischievous look and red cheeks. Sharing secrets with their legs hanging off the bridge, in the sparkly water.

Normal. Another word that didn’t seem quite like her own.

At some point, they had seen a shooting star. Allura leaned her head onto Romelle’s shoulder with a sigh.

“On Earth, people believe in wishing upon falling stars.”

Romelle hummed in response.

“Did you wish for something, Princess?”

She considered shaking her head, but decided against it. Lying to Romelle didn’t sound like something she’d ever want to do. “We’re not on Earth.”

“I don’t believe that’s what I asked.”

A pause.

“Fair enough,” Allura finally admitted, smiling against Romelle’s shoulder, “but my wish was fairly silly.”

“I’d like to judge that for myself if you’d let me. And besides, having silly wishes is very much allowed.”

Allura looked down at the lake, where Romelle was playfully engaging her in a game of footsie. Despite being calm enough to mirror the night sky, the water had too much of its own glow to separate it from the reflection of the stars.

She kicked at it, a droplet landing on her nose.

“It feels childish to wish for such a thing in our current situation, but ever since Lotor-” she cut herself off, unsatisfied with how she started that sentence. She wiped the wet spot from her nose and tried again.

“Ever since the whole Lotor debacle happened, I can’t stop myself from thinking about it. I now know that I didn’t love him- that I don’t think I ever  _could._  But it felt so nice, Peaches, even just to dare and think I might have a chance.” Her chest suddenly felt heavy. She felt heavy.

Heavy and overwhelmingly tired.

“Earlier, during the dinner, I was teasing Keith for looking at Lance like that- like Lance lifted the sky and then painted on all of the stars, you know? He gets all soft and sappy and it’s _so_ amusing to see the _I-don’t-have-time-for-this_ brooding _Keith_ look at someone like he’s about to sing them a love song but-”

She choked on her own breath, voice turning not much louder than a whisper.

“But I wish someone looked at me like that, too.”

They stayed that way for a while- Romelle reaching to rub soothing circles over Allura’s back before she spoke up again.

“Okay.”

(Allura wasn’t sure if she was dizzy from how fast she turned her head, or the sheer amount of gentleness in Romelle’s voice.)

(She said it like it’d be so easy. Like loving Allura would be the simplest thing in the world.)

“What else do you wish for?”

Now, sitting on a comfy bed as the rain taps on the window, watching Romelle’s hair puff up comically while the girl pouts, Allura can’t think of any wishes to make this moment more perfect.

(Well.)

(She can think of a _few_ , but she’d rather kiss a weblum than admit any of them out loud.)

She rolls her eyes, but can’t seem to get rid of that fond smile as she pats the space next to her on the bed- motioning Romelle to sit down. “Come here you klutz, before you rip all of your hair out.”

Romelle’s smile is blinding as she takes the offer, all but throwing herself on to the bed, inches away from ending up in Allura’s lap.

“Aww, you don’t think I could rock a bald head Princess?”

 _You could rock absolutely any look you wanted to,_  Allura thinks.

(She has been doing that often lately. Romelle, that is. She keeps adapting Earth phrases into her vocabulary, and there’s this special kind of expression on her face whenever she says one. Allura thinks it’s adorable.)

(Of course she does.)

“You’d look like that blue guy from the cartoon we watched yesterday.” Is what she says instead, “Megamind, was it?”

“Hey! Mean!” Romelle squeals, but still hands Allura the brush and tilts her hair a bit to the side to assure the other girl an easier access, eyes all wide and starry and looking at  _her_  and woah. Allura didn’t think this through.

“Romegamind” she says in an exaggeratedly deep voice as she reaches for a strand of blonde hair, beaming and oddly proud when it makes Romelle laugh.

Allura’s hands move quickly and gracefully, not much thought behind her practiced movements- and thank quiznack for that, because her brain really isn’t being very useful with Romelle around. She brushes her hair until it resembles a waterfall of liquid sunshine, but all that her brain supplies her with during that time is a verbal waterfall of  _kissherkissherkissher_.

Romelle is talking about something, has been for a while now, and Allura feels really bad for not paying attention. She usually does, because Romelle rambling is the cutest thing in all of the galaxies: all wild hand gestures and toothy grins.

But.

Is it just Allura or is Romelle’s grin even more distracting today?

Is it just her or is that glitter on Romelle’s lips?

_(Allura always did have a weak spot for sparkly things)_

“-and then Keith said something about updogs, an Earth thing I assume, but Krolia and I didn’t really understand- which doesn’t even matter because then his wolf thought we were calling her and she just  _leaped_ -”

Romelle bites her infuriatingly rosy and soft looking bottom lip in an attempt to hold back from giggling at her own story, and Allura’s brain-to-mouth filter finally gives out. It’s a very sudden, very uninvited, moment of courage and absolute foolishness during which she feels like she’s watching herself from outside of a glass box. One moment she’s fine (or as fine as she can be with Romelle this close to her) and the next-

“What’s wrong with your lips?”

-the next she wants Earth to swallow her alive.

Romelle pauses with her story, surprise obvious on her bright features and-

Oh quiznack a lamavak right in the droptooter.

They’re not all that bright anymore. Her mouth is forming a pout, and her eyebrows are furrowed with confusion and something else entirely, creating a small wrinkle in between them that Allura wants to smooth down with her thumb.

Allura’s own eyes widen as she realizes what she said, hands flying as she fumbles.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she squeals, “I promise! I just- your lips! Red. And uh. Sparkly?”

She’s quite certain she’s not making any sense, but Romelle’s face relaxes nonetheless. There’s now a playful smirk playing in the corner of her lips, the kind that causes the dimple in her right cheek to appear, and that most certainly doesn’t make the situation any easier for Allura’s poor soul.

“It’s okay Lura.”

And then, just when her heart starts beating semi-normally again:

“But did I truly make the ever so articulate Princess of Altea stumble over her words? Using just the colour of my lips?”

 _Boom-thada-bum-thada-THRUS._  Allura is pretty sure that something inside of her malfunctioned.

 _She’s just joking around,_  she screams at herself,  _Get a grip and play it cool_.

“You wish,” she says, faking a confident smile in a true Lance fashion and blowing at the strand of her hair that covered her eyes, all while furiously (but also coolly) avoiding any and all eye contact.

In her peripheral vision, she can see Romelle lightly shake her head.

The warm light of the candles on the bedside table catches beautifully on her hair, and in a moment of complete lovestruck-ness, Allura concludes that it must be so cloudy outside because all of the sunshine settled itself on Romelle.

“You have no idea,” she mumbles- but before Allura could ask what she meant by that, Romelle is moving to remove the stubborn strand from Allura’s face. She keeps her hand there for a little longer than needed, and then clears her throat before reaching for something in the back pocket of her high-waisted shorts.

“It’s this peach lipgloss Veronica had borrowed me,” her lips quirk up adorably as she twirls a small, dusty red tube between her fingers “Funny, isn’t it? The fact that she gave me the peach one?”

Allura nods, but her mind is elsewhere as she warily eyes the tube in Romelle’s hands. Her nose scrunches up once she realizes why it seems so familiar.

“You  _like_  that? Veronica gave me one and I almost threw up. It smells nice, but the taste is  _nothing_  like real peaches.”

Romelle goes still for a few moments, and then- once she realizes Allura is being one hundred percent serious- she starts laughing so hard she almost falls off the bed. She  _would_  have fallen if a very confused Allura hadn’t grabbed her by the arm to steady her.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, unsure if she’s allowed to join in with a tentative smile or if’s she’s expected to play offense.

(She’d probably join in any way; it’s impossible not to when the other girl’s laughter is so full and sweet.)

(If she thought that sun has settled itself on Romelle before, she’s now quite certain that Romelle  _is_  the sun.)

“Sorry,” Romelle says when she calms down a bit, but the way giggles are still bubbling past her lips doesn’t do much to help her case- not when it comes to appearing apologetic. “You’re not supposed to eat it, Princess. Just put some on your lips to make them look pretty”

“Oh,” Allura says, dumbly. And then, because she’s a hopeless, lovesick fool, she adds: “Well it certainly seems to be working.”

She’s blushing. She can feel her cheeks getting hotter by the second.

(The secret is: she doesn’t care. If Romelle is the sun, Allura will be Icarus- crashing into her and smiling as she melts away.)

Romelle raises an eyebrow, and by the way she bites her lip Allura can tell that she’s carefully considering her next words.

“Would you like me to...help you put it on?”

Allura only nods (her enthusiasm just a tad bit suspicious) because apparently she only has five brain cells left- the two of them screaming at her not to speak, knowing that the other three would be able to form only one very specific and very dangerous sentence.

Romelle, bless her soul, doesn’t seem all too phased by Allura’s current state. She moves in even closer before opening the lipgloss, gently smiling at the other girl as she tilts her chin up- hand hoovering until it cups her cheek instead of simply falling down in that miniature space in-between them.

(If Romelle looked down at that space, she would notice Allura clenching the hem of her dress so tightly her knuckles paled.)

Carefully, she connects the applicator with Allura’s lips. It smells just as nice as she remembers, but Allura is a little preoccupied with the pink of Romelle’s half-lidded eyes and her lovely blush to focus on much else. When Romelle blushes, it spreads all the way from the tips of her ears and goes down down down, past her collarbones.

Pink sunsets of Cuba are no match for it.

Suddenly, a small “Quizack!” escapes Romelle, and before Allura can properly react (“Are you okay? Is something hurt? Do you want me to kiss it better? Marry me?”) her thumb is reaching up until it comes in contact with Allura’s lips- possibly to wipe off extra lipgloss, but common sense left this station long ago.

Startled, she lets out an audible gasp, and Romelle’s wide eyes meet hers- thumb still on Allura's lip.

( _Oh_.)

( _That’s_  what butterflies feel like.)

And then- without thinking, without letting herself back out- Allura props herself up and brings their lips together.

It’s barely a peck- barely lasts longer than two seconds- but she’s sure she never felt anything quite like it. Nothing ever made her feel quite so powerful and so completely at someone’s mercy, all at once.

Allura was never hungry for power. But this? She couldn’t trust herself not to become addicted now that she tried it.

Which is why she only allows it to last ever so shortly before backing away, an apology already on the tip of her tongue.

It doesn’t make it past there.

Romelle’s eyes blink open, a shy smile forming on her lips as she reaches to cup Allura’s face better, fingers tangling in the curly hair on the back of her neck as she draws her back in.

It’s gentle and chaste at first, and oh-so clumsy in the most endearing of ways. Their noses bump together until they figure out a better angle, and Allura can feel Romelle smile against her lips- causing her to giggle herself, way too happy and _free_  to control it.

She has floated in anti-gravity before, yet somehow this feels more like it than the actual experience did. Her limbs are light, and Romelle is so soft but sure in all of her movements, her fingers tracing a line across Allura’s collarbones- like she knows she isn’t something breakable, but still should be handled with care.

The butterflies aren’t rough or slimy this time around, and there are so many of them, she’s certain that they could lift her up if only Romelle asked them to.

(Kissing Romelle makes her feel vulnerable)

They break apart again, to breathe, but this time it’s only their lips that separate- foreheads still pressed together.

“You taste like a peach, Peaches,” she whispers against Romelle’s lips; and then she’s pulling her in by the collar once more, Romelle now placing her hands on Allura’s waist, leading her to sit on her lap. Allura tangles her fingers in the blond hair- but unlike just minutes ago when she did so to sooth the hair down, she does it with determination to mess it up.

She bites on Romelle’s lower lip lightly; not enough to feel any pain, but enough for the other girl to let out a surprised gasp and allow them to deepen the kiss. The air around them feels electric, and so do all of the hairs on Allura’s body- almost to the point where she thinks to check if she’s glowing pink.

Because this feels a hundred times more magical than her actual magic. Because standing in the battlefield with her skin and eyes glowing could never make her feel half this powerful.

(Kissing Romelle makes her feel vulnerable. But it also makes her feel invincible.)

Then- just as Allura’s hands wander under Romelle’s shirt; just as she tilts her head back, Romelle’s lips parting from hers to attach to her neck- the doors burst open.

“Sup’ losers,” Lance’s head pops in, hair curly from the rain, “Mami says the dinner is reaaa-”

He trails off in the middle of the sentence as he takes in the scene before him.

The girls jumped away from each other quickly once they heared the door open, but there’s a lot of things the distance doesn’t cover up. The absolute mess Allura succeeded to make out of Romelle’s hair, for one. Or the very red lipstick smudges all over their faces- all over their lips. All over Allura’s neck.

Allura attempts to wipe them off with the back of her hand, and Romelle just leans against the drawer, watching her with a dopey look on her face.

“Lance! I can explain! See, Romelle is a, uh...” she stops herself in the middle of the sentence.

She was about to say that Romelle is a vampire (she doesn’t completely understand how they work, but they _did_ all binge the movies about those sparkly ones, and the vampires _did_ bite people’s necks) when she catches the sight of the girl in question, looking at her a little sheepishly- a little hopefully- and her breath catches in her throat.

“She’s uh. Um. She’s my...girlfriend?”

Somehow, the sentence ends up being directed at Romelle more than it is at Lance.

And Allura thinks she might have to sit down. Thinks she might have won the lottery or the galaxy or the entire known universe. Or none of that, because none of it can even begin to compare to the feeling of winning Romelle’s heart.

Because there her _girlfriend_ , apparently, is, in all of her sunshiny glory- looking at her as if Allura lifted the sky. Or maybe as if she’d do it for her, if she asked.

(She doesn’t need anybody to lift the sky for her; but she’d have nothing against another kiss.)

“Oh,” Lance says, wiggling his eyebrows in Allura’s direction- because he’s a horrible best friend. Then- because he’s also an  _amazing_  best friend- he adds: “I’ll leave you to it then.”

He pauses in the doorway for a bit though, faking seriousness.

“But really, abuelita might take it personally if you’re late for her food.”

Romelle smiles sweetly. “Don’t worry. As much as I like Allura, your abuelita is still my favorite woman in this house. I wouldn’t dream of offending her.”

He nods, satisfied with this answer. 

 _This one is a keeper_ , he mouths in Allura’s direction (as if she doesn't already know that) while forming what she supposes is meant to be some sort of barrier with his palm before finally retreating, not even waiting for the doors to shut  as he starts to shout.

“Keith! You’ll never guess who we’re going on a double date with!”

Once he’s gone, Allura peeks out from behind her hands- which she had covered her face with previously- to send Romelle a timid smile. The smile grows in size quickly as she sees the other girl’s face, flushing with the effort of holding her laughter before they both let go.

She isn’t sure what’s so funny, but both of them are laughing like they’ll never stop- the kind of laughter that comes with flushed cheeks and aching tummies and tearful eyes.

Once their laughter calms down enough to stand, Romelle stretches out her hand in Allura’s direction. She looks at it with confusion and a raised eyebrow, but still takes the hand in her own; letting out a yelp of surprise as Romelle uses this to pull her forward until they’re standing chest to chest- fingers still intertwined.

“So,” she practically chirps, “Girlfriend?”

Allura bites on her tongue. “If that’s something you’d like.”

Romelle nods in an almost worrying speed that only seems to be accelerating, and Allura thinks the butterflies aren’t good enough of a metaphor. Her insides feel more like a snow globe that someone had shaken very intensely.

“You have no idea,” she breathes, “how much and for how long that has been something I'd like. I’ve been completely enchanted by you since the moment you skipped Lotor like a rock.”

Allura laughs, lifting their intertwined hands to leave a gentle kiss against Romelle’s knuckles. She rubs her thumb over the lipgloss stain.

“I don’t know; I think I might have a  _small_  idea of what it’s like.”

Golden ring-tales swoosh around as Romelle’s big eyes repeatedly trail from their hands to Allura’s face.

“Would you like to go on a date?” she blurts. "With me?"

Allura tilts her head to the side.

“A date?”

The other girl nods rapidly again, and for a second Allura considers catching her chin with her hand.

“A date. We could- oh I don’t know- have a picnic under the stars? Or if it’s still raining we could do it here, since you don’t like the rain so much. I mean, clearly we wouldn’t be able to see the real stars, but the glow in the dark ones are pretty too. Well. They aren’t actually that pretty, but I don’t exactly care. I sort of just want to be close to you.”

_Stars. How is this girl even real._

Allura crushes her into a hug; hooks her chin over her shoulder and squeezes tight.

(Romelle  _is_  the sun- but Allura isn’t melting. Instead, it’s like she’s soaking all of it in.)

“So,” Romelle beams, “Is that a yes?”

Allura only squeezes her tighter.

-

(Romelle is a little taller than Allura, but quite possibly the perfect height for giving forehead kisses. And if Allura stands on her tiptoes, that would  _quite possibly_  make Romelle the perfect height for receiving a nose kiss.)

(She tests this theory out quickly. The results are positive.)

(Romelle lets the most ethereal breathy giggles escape her when Allura peppers her face with kisses, and she decides- for once in her life- that the rest of the universe can wait. Stargazing is nice- but kissing Romelle is like a supernova itself.)

-

(Later that night they lay on the roof, looking up at the real stars. Allura complains- saying that she can’t see any of them because of the clouds- but then Romelle gently intertwines their fingers and guides them across the Orion constellation with slightly uncertain movements.

She turns to Allura with a soft smile once she succeeds in fiding it, never letting go of her hand; and Allura always knew how to find stars in the eyes of other people, but now she feels starry-eyed herself.

“Of course you can,” she says. “the stars are always there somewhere.”

That, for some reason, makes Allura want to kiss her. So she does.)

(She lays on the roof of Lance’s family house in Cuba for awhile- billion, trillion,  _gazillion_  light years away from where Altea once was- kissing a beautiful girl who tastes like peaches; feeling tiny and humongous; becoming vulnerable and invincible.

And it’s the closest she felt to home in a long time.)

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed that at least a little bit; and if you did, kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated- even if they're just keysmashes!!
> 
> in case you feel like talking abt romellura with me, you can hit me up on [my tumblr](https://lovebenders.tumblr.com) :D


End file.
